


Kwazy For You

by missbecky



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 20:41:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9019621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: Eggsy discovers Harry's secret weakness in an unexpected way.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marginaliana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marginaliana/gifts).



When Eggsy moves into Harry's house, it takes only a couple hours to pack up everything he owns. He stands in the room that's been his shelter and refuge for most of his life, and he looks around with an only slightly bitter eye.

The room looks a lot smaller now that it's empty of most everything. Posters still hang on the walls for computer games he's played: Halo, Mass Effect, that kind of thing. He hung them up mostly just to cover the dingy ugliness of the walls, but he always did enjoy the games themselves. They were an escape, a way to get out of his horrible life even if it was just for a few hours.

The games are already packed away. He's promised Harry he won't spend too much time playing, but he's looking forward to checking out the graphics on the enormous TV in the living room. He would never dream of saying anything out loud about it, but privately he has this secret little fantasy of enticing Harry into joining him, the two of them stealing cars and shooting zombies and just having fun together.

Not that it's probably gonna happen. But you never know, Eggsy muses with a shrug. He takes one last look around his childhood room, and then he walks out.

****

As it turns out, he's right on that score. Harry is completely uninterested in playing any of his games, although he will offer up mild encouragement when Eggsy gets frustrated trying to down a boss, that kind of thing. Mostly he does this without looking up from his book or tablet, but Eggsy appreciates it anyway –- where he's from, any encouraging word is a rarity.

One night at dinner he asks, "Don't you play any kind of games at all? And don't say chess."

Harry closes his mouth slowly.

Eggsy's shoulders slump in a dramatic display. "Seriously? Nothing?"

"It would seem I'm not permitted to answer that," Harry says.

Eggsy groans and shakes his head. "We gotta do something about that."

"Games are not really my thing," Harry says. "I'm perfectly content to let you have the honours. Besides, you look lovely when you're concentrating on the telly or staring down at your phone. Like someone I can't wait to kiss."

Eggsy flushes a little, but he can't help feeling pleased.

****

It's maybe a month later when he wakes up in the middle of the night to find himself alone in bed. This isn't very unusual; Harry is a light sleeper to begin with, and he often dreams about Kentucky or other old missions -– and not in a good way.

Eggsy throws back the covers and pads barefoot through the hall and down the stairs. Halfway down he pauses, frowning a little.

He could swear he hears a familiar sound, a kind of high-pitched, sprightly music that nags at him like he ought to know where it's from. But when he steps into the living room, Harry is just sitting there on the couch, reading his latest book.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

Harry nods. "Yes." He puts the book down beside his phone, which is on the coffee table in front of him. "I was going to come up in a minute."

"So come up now," Eggsy says.

Harry gives him a smile that's only slightly strained. "All right."

****

They're in Oslo and he's running late for their meeting; they've each had a surveillance detail today and now it's time to compare notes and plan strategy. The meeting is in a rather crowded coffee shop, and Eggsy jostles an older lady as he pushes into the shop, aware that he's late and annoyed at himself for it.

Harry is sitting at a table near the back, one that gives him a clear view of the entire room including the front door. He's on his phone, texting someone, it looks like, but as Eggsy hurries forward, he could swear he hears that familiar music again.

He slides into the chair opposite Harry. "Sorry I'm late."

"I trust everything is all right?" Harry looks at him. His phone is on the home screen, Eggsy sees with a glance.

"Yeah," Eggsy says. "I just missed the bus, is all."

In his ear Merlin chuckles. Harry shakes his head, but he looks almost fondly at Eggsy. "Well, then I guess we'd better get to it."

****

The bells in the clock tower start to chime a bright melody, and that's his cue to get started. He's only got so many minutes to set the explosives and detonate them before the night goes silent again and he loses the cover of all that noise.

He's done this before, a routine he knows by heart, setting one block of explosive after another, laying them down so as to cause a perfect chain reaction. What he doesn't count on is the guard who suddenly walks around the corner.

For a moment they stare at each other, equally surprised. Eggsy has a moment where he thinks, _What the fuck Merlin why didn't you warn me?_ and then the guy is running at him, and he stops thinking and bursts into action.

The guard is good, but Eggsy is better. They tangle in a flurry of fists and feet, but it's the guard who ends up on the floor.

He's not hurt, is barely even breathing hard. The only problem is, the encounter costs him precious time. As he turns back around, Merlin urges him to flee the scene. The timer on the first explosive is too close to zero.

"I can do this," Eggsy says with determination.

And that's when the whole thing goes up in a blaze of fire and smoke.

****

He drifts slowly toward consciousness. For a time he's content to float on a featureless haze, not quite awake but not really asleep. He thinks something might have happened, maybe even something bad, but he can't be sure and he really can't be bothered enough to worry about it.

After a while though, he realises that he can hear something. It's like the bells in the clock tower, a surprisingly cheerful sound that draws him toward it. It sounds close enough to touch, and yet impossibly far away. And all around him, the grey haze of nothing is getting lighter.

The music pulls him upward, into the light. As it crescendos into a fanfare, Eggsy at last opens his eyes.

He blinks dazedly up at the ceiling for a long moment. He recognises that perfect expanse of white plaster, only all too well. He knows within seconds that he's in the infirmary at Kingsman HQ, that something has happened to him, and that he must be on some pretty amazing painkillers because he can't feel a fucking thing.

The music has gone away now, and in the silence that takes its place, he has to exert a tremendous effort to turn his head. And yes, there is Harry, just as Eggsy expected. Sitting in the chair beside the bed where he's been before (where Eggsy has sat when the situation has been reversed). His white shirt is wrinkled from being slept in, and he's in need of a shave. His hand as he sets his phone down is not altogether steady. But he smiles as he leans in. "Eggsy."

Eggsy hums a little. Yes that's his name. Yes he's okay. Yes he's glad Harry is here.

"You're going to be all right," Harry says. "You were knocked across the room by the blast. No burns, no broken bones. But you have a concussion and a sprained wrist where you landed on it."

Eggsy nods. This takes only slightly less effort than it did to turn his head in the first place.

"The timer was faulty," Harry says. "Arthur has already reprimanded the responsible party. You did nothing wrong."

"I know," he says. 

At least that's what he means to say. Instead it comes out in one big blur of sound. Harry seems to understand it anyway, though, because he smiles. "You should rest."

"Yeah," he says. This time it actually sounds like a real word.

Harry takes his hand. "I'll be here."

Eggsy closes his eyes. "I know," he breathes.

He drifts again pleasantly, headed for sleep, but this time without any accompanying music. The realisation makes him frown, and he opens his eyes again. "You."

"I what?" Still holding his hand, Harry looks down at him.

It takes ages for the memory to properly arrange itself in his muddled thoughts. Even longer to feel like he's got control of his own face. But at last Eggsy manages to glower and say, "You said games wasn't your thing."

Harry's expression goes slack with surprise. "I beg your pardon?"

"You were playin' a game," Eggsy slurs. He ought to be annoyed, but he's too drugged up for that kind of thing right now. He'll save it for later, he decides fuzzily. "While I was sleepin'."

"I'm afraid I don't know—"

"I do," Eggsy says. He can hardly keep his eyes open any longer, but he resists the urge to fall asleep. Some things are more important. Some things have to be said.

"I know you were playing Kwazy Cupcakes."

"Eggsy, I—"

He can't do it. His eyes slip shut. " 's okay," he breathes. " 's fun."

And then he's out.

****

There's really nothing wrong with him, and he's released the next day, sent home with a warning not to overdo it for a couple days and an appointment to see the doctor and Arthur when he gets back.

Harry fusses over him a little as they board the bullet train for Savile Row. Eggsy's inclined to let him at first, but once the train gets going, he waves Harry off. "I'm fine, you know."

"All right." Harry gives in easily enough and returns to his seat across the way, but he continues to watch Eggsy closely.

The movement of the train is kind of soothing, and he's still a bit worn out; he could fall asleep like this. Instead Eggsy says, "So. When was you planning on telling me you were addicted to that game?"

Harry jolts like he's been stung by a bee. "I am _not_ addicted." His shoulders come up and his voice is stiff with outrage.

"Oh really?" Eggsy smirks. "You were sitting there playing it while I was unconscious. What's that then?"

For a moment Harry just stares at him, and Eggsy thinks he won't answer, stubborn pride keeping him silent. So he's surprised when Harry says, "It reminds me of you."

"Huh?" He's too astonished to be more articulate than that.

Harry looks away for a moment; his hands clasp each other tightly in his lap. He looks uncomfortable, almost embarrassed. But his gaze is steady as he looks back at Eggsy. "When you got hurt in Aberdeen, I watched over you, do you remember?"

Eggsy nods. He had fallen two stories down an elevator shaft. Not that he remembers the actual fall. That's been wiped out in the trauma of landing flat on his back on top of the elevator and losing consciousness for several hours.

"I took your phone then. At first I didn't know how long you would need to recover, and I thought I might need to contact your mother, depending on what cover story you had given her."

"You went through my phone?" That kind of pisses him off.

"Only if I needed to," Harry says. "Please give me _some_ credit for discretion, Eggsy." Now he sounds kind of irritated.

But a moment later he's relaxing again. "At any rate, it turned out to not be necessary. But I did find myself intrigued by the games you had on your phone. And I needed something to do to occupy the time until you woke up. So I…started playing one of them."

Remembering the music he's heard from Harry's phone over the past few months, Eggsy finds himself grinning. "Kwazy Cupcakes."

Harry grimaces. "Apparently. Although why it has such an absurd name is beyond me."

"And playing it makes you think of me?" He's stupidly touched by that, even if it is over something as ridiculous as a game on his phone.

"Yes, it does," Harry says. His attempt at dignity over something so silly makes Eggsy's heart skip a beat. Especially now that he knows how the whole thing got started. No wonder Harry was playing it while he lay unconcious in Medical. It must have been like the first time all over again, hoping he would wake up and be fine, just like he was after the fall in Aberdeen.

"Well, I'm glad," he says. "And you don't gotta hide it from me anymore."

"I suppose not," Harry says with a rueful smile.

"Which is good 'cause you're addicted to it," Eggsy says.

"I am _not_ ," Harry snaps, just before he sees the teasing look on Eggsy's face.

"Yeah, you are," Eggsy says. "But that's okay. I love you for it anyway." Maybe even more than ever, now that he knows Harry's got a secret weakness just like everyone else.

"In fact," he adds, and he almost can't get the words out because he's laughing at his own dumb joke, "you could even say I'm 'kwazy' for you."

Harry groans and gives him an exasperated look, but he doesn't say anything. He just kind of shakes his head a little, the way he does when he's trying hard not to smile.

Still laughing, Eggsy gets up and crosses the short distance between them so he can sit next to Harry. He leans in so they're pressed together, and Harry's arm goes about his shoulders, a warm and familiar weight. "Just so you know," he says, "I ain't ever gonna let you forget you were playing a game while I was practically in a fucking coma."

"I do apologise," Harry says dryly. "I couldn't spend the _entire_ time weeping melodramatically over your fallen body."

Eggsy sniffs as though he's deeply offended. "Well, next time you better."

"There better not _be_ a next time," Harry replies.

He says nothing to this. In theory he agrees, but rationally he knows that's bullshit. Of course there will be a next time. It's just in their nature. When they decide to do something, to believe in something, they devote their entire selves to it. It's who they are. It's why they're here right now, Kingsman agents wearing bespoke suits and an array of old scars.

But for all that, he knows he wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

"I just got one question," he says as he nestles in a little bit closer.

"What's that?" Harry replies warmly.

"Have you made it to Sprinkle City yet?"

**Author's Note:**

> I shamelessly used the name of an existing fictional game here -- only to discover to my delight while I was writing this story that it actually exists. :-)


End file.
